Shadows
by Zathara001
Summary: After returning from his visit with Peggy Carter, Steve realizes that there's more to getting on with his life than he'd expected. Part Two of Amalgam: Shield and Lasso.
1. Chapter 1

Amalgam: Shield and Lasso

Part Two - Shadows

After returning from his visit with Peggy Carter, Steve realizes that there's more to getting on with his life than he'd expected. Part Two of Amalgam: Shield and Lasso.

As always, all rights to this story are hereby given to DC and Marvel and/or their parent companies and/or the applicable copyright owners

Steve Rogers returned from his spur-of-the-moment trip to England emotionally drained. As if waking in a new century and fighting off an alien invasion within the week weren't stressful enough, he'd also been reunited with a friend he'd thought dead and spent time with the woman who'd been his first love and would always be his best girl.

Even Job's patience would be tested, and Steve knew he was nowhere near as good as Job.

Steve paid the cabbie who'd brought him from the airport to his apartment - and how he'd convinced Tony Stark not to send him a limousine was a minor miracle, as far as he was concerned - and strode up the steps to his apartment two at a time.

Almost before he'd fully finished opening the door, something struck his senses as _wrong_ , and his instincts went on alert. Steve silently lowered the single duffel bag he had to the floor and crept forward, senses extended as best he could as he tried to identify the _wrongness_ in his apartment.

Rounding a corner into the living room, he saw a figure silhouetted against the curtains drawn against the afternoon sun.

"I don't like it when my agents go off grid, Cap."

Steve recognized Nick Fury's voice immediately and wanted to relax because the intruder was familiar, but anger welled in him as he processed what Fury had actually said.

"I'm not your agent, sir," Steve shot back.

Fury didn't move from where he stood. "I understood Commander Hill offered you a place with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"She did. I haven't accepted it yet, and I'm not sure I'm going to."

"Why not?" Fury's tone lost its imperious edge thanks, no doubt, to surprise.

"Because I'm not ready to join this world. I don't know enough."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. will brief you on what you need to know."

"And who decides what I need to know, in that scenario?" Steve asked.

"All agents are briefed on their mission requirements. We have entire teams of people doing the necessary research."

"For mission requirements," Steve repeated. "But what about the world? I have seventy years of history and culture to catch up on. I can't do that if I'm out in the field all the time."

"So you refuse."

"For now," Steve corrected. Given what Peggy had told him, he wasn't certain he could ever work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but he didn't want to tip his hand just yet.

"I see." Fury stepped forward and now that his face wasn't in shadow, Steve could read the disappointment in his expression. "In that case, you'll have to vacate this apartment."

Had Steve heard him correctly? "Vacate?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. provides a housing allowance for its agents," Fury said. "As you are not an agent, you will no longer receive that allowance."

Steve had known Fury was a manipulative bastard from the moment he'd met the man. There was no other explanation for the elaborate hospital charade he'd found when he woke from his frozen nap. He hadn't realized just how blatant Fury's manipulation could become.

"I see," was all he said. "In that case, if you'll wait a moment, I'll change into my uniform and you can have these clothes as well."

Fury blinked. "Pardon?"

"Agent Hill told me the cost of the clothes would be deducted from my first paycheck."

"You can keep them," Fury said hurriedly. "At least what you're wearing."

"Thank you for the loan," Steve said. "I'll have them cleaned and returned to you as soon as possible."

He turned and grabbed his duffel. After carrying it to the bedroom, he dumped its contents on the bed, only to replace them with the star-spangled uniform he'd worn during the war and his shield.

Fury was still standing where he'd been when Steve left the room. Steve had the sense that the other man was trying to process what the hell had just happened.

"Thank you for all you've done for me, Nick," Steve said and watched Fury's good eye narrow at the familiarity - appropriate now, as Fury wasn't his future supervisor. "I hope there'll be a place for me at S.H.I.E.L.D. when I'm ready."

"My door is always open for you."

It wasn't a promise, but then Steve hadn't expected one. He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and turned for the door. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled the cellular telephone Agent Hill had given him from a pocket and laid it on the key-shelf by the door, keeping the one Tony Stark had given him.

He left the apartment before Fury could say anything else, turning toward one part of New York that remained much as he remembered it - Central Park.

Only when he was sitting on a bench overlooking one of the many water features did Steve allow himself to feel the anger he'd been controlling since he entered his apartment.

He'd trusted Fury - he'd _wanted_ to trust Fury - because he was the director of an organization Peggy Carter helped create. To have that trust turned against him, even if the motive were benign, which Steve doubted, hurt. It hurt more to think that all of Peggy's work might have been in vain.

 _So what are you going to do about it?_

There was, really, only one thing he could do. He pulled out the StarkPhone Tony had given him before he left for England and touched one of the three numbers programmed into it.

JARVIS answered immediately. "Good afternoon, Captain Rogers."

"Hello, JARVIS," Steve responded, automatically polite even if JARVIS wasn't really a person. "I wondered if Tony might let me stay with him for a few days. I've been evicted from my apartment."

There was a long pause before JARVIS said, "Sir says please come straight to the Tower, as he would like to know, and I quote, what the hell happened that Rogers got himself evicted."

Steve chuckled. "It's quite a story, JARVIS. I'll tell all of you when I get there."

Fifteen minutes later, Steve found himself stepping off the elevator at Stark Tower and into Tony's private apartment, rather than the lab he'd expected since Tony seemed to spend most of his waking hours there.

Tony himself was behind a bar in the far corner.

"Pepper would say it's a little early for a drink, but the situation calls for more than coffee. Scotch? Bourbon?"

One of the side-effects of Erskine's serum was that Steve couldn't get drunk anymore - at least not without significant effort and a case or two of ninety-proof alcohol. He had to admit, though, that the warmth of whisky sounded good right now.

Still, if it were Howard offering, he'd have no qualms about teasing the man. Why should Howard's son be any different?

"Sounds like it calls for hot chocolate, then."

Tony could only stare at him, clearly horrified. Steve held his laughter in as long as he could. When he finally let it out, Tony's expression shifted to more surprise at the joke than horror at the suggestion.

"Whichever you're having," Steve said and took a seat on the sofa Tony waved him toward.

Moments later, Tony brought him a glass with three fingers of a caramel colored liquid. Matching glass in hand, Tony flopped down on the far end of the sofa.

Steve sipped the liquid cautiously, feeling the burn as it slid down his throat. "That's good."

"Small batch bourbon from a distillery in western North Carolina," Tony said. "I bought the barrel."

"Of course you did," Steve said, unable to hide his amusement. "But I thought bourbon came from Kentucky."

"Bourbon's defined by what's in it, not where it's made," Tony replied, "and do you really want to be talking about bourbon right now?"

"Yes," Steve admitted. "But only because I really don't want to be talking about the rest of it."

"That's not ominous," Tony muttered. "But it's better to lance the boil, as it were, so spill."

Steve swallowed. "I'd like Diana to hear it, too - she was there for the first part."

Tony's eyebrows flew up, but all he said was, "Okay. JARVIS?"

"If you'll provide the number, Captain?" JARVIS prompted, and Steve recited Diana's number from memory.

Minutes later, a large screen over the fireplace came to life, and Diana's face filled it.

"Steve," she said. "Mr. Stark."

"Beautiful women can always call me Tony," Tony said magnanimously before turning to Steve. "So, the gang's all here. What's up?"

Steve took another sip of bourbon before setting the glass aside and straightening to face Diana more than Tony.

"You were right," he told her. "The lasso did help her stay … alert much longer. We talked for almost the whole time I was with her."

"I'm glad," Diana said.

"Her?" Tony asked. "You mean - Peggy?"

Steve nodded. "And a lot of what we talked about is - personal. The part that's relevant -" he broke off for a moment, considering how to proceed, then plunged in. "Did you know that after the war, a lot of Nazi scientists and technicians were brought into the States to work here?"

Diana looked surprised, but Tony nodded. "Operation Paperclip," he said. "Something like 1500 Germans were given jobs after the war, to help us gain a military advantage over the Soviet Union in the Cold War and the space race. To be fair, the Soviets did the same thing - they got over 2000 German scientists in Operation Osoaviakim. What's your point?"

Steve's mind rebelled at the numbers, but he shook that off. "My point is that a lot of Hydra scientists went straight into S.H.I.E.L.D. They've been there since the beginning."

Tony shrugged. "Brought a wealth of technical expertise with them."

"Along with their philosophy," Diana murmured.

"I guess I understand bringing scientists to work for the government," Steve said. "But why bring them to work in a spy organization, where by definition they're subversive from the beginning?"

"They saw it as a fair trade," Tony said. "We needed any advantage we could get against the Soviets - or that's the way we thought of it at the time. We didn't know that the Soviet Union would eventually collapse in on itself. Why does ancient history have you freaked out so much?"

"I realize the Second World War was before you were born," Diana said, "but that does not make it ancient history. The Peloponnesian War, the Gallic wars are ancient history, not Nazis."

Tony glared at her, but Steve thought there was no heat in it. "Spoilsport."

"Hydra named itself after the mythical monster," Steve said before Diana could respond to that. "If you cut off one head -"

"Two more will take its place," Diana finished with him.

"We cut off a lot of heads in the war," Steve said. "So how many more have grown to take their place?"

"They've been safe," Diana said, "in a country that prizes individuality and freedom of expression and belief, so they were never questioned about their loyalties, much less punished for them."

Tony stared at her. "You think they're acting like a giant sleeper cell."

"Mm," Diana hemmed. "I think I have no reason to believe they're not."

"That's pretty far-fetched," Tony declared. "Thinking they've been growing like a cancer right under the director's nose? It's crazy."

"Unless Fury's part of it," Steve said quietly.

"What?" The question came from both Tony and Diana, and Steve would've smiled at the chorus, except the situation was hardly funny.

"Wait -" Tony added. "Does this have anything to do with you being evicted from your apartment?"

"Evicted?" Diana asked.

"I don't know that it's related," Steve said. "But as Diana pointed out, I don't know that it's not, either. Which is why I wanted to talk to you both."

He related his conversation with Nick Fury to them, uncertain how to feel when their expressions mirrored his own reaction.

"Well," Tony said finally. "I know we don't have hard evidence either way, but that didn't sound like a Hydra … agent? mole? whatever … trying to get you to stay so they could do nefarious things to you or with you."

"How do we get hard evidence?" Steve asked. "Whether or not Fury's involved, having a Hydra - what did you call it, a sleeper cell? - embedded in an intelligence agency can't be good."

"No," Tony agreed. "It can't." He tapped his fingers on the glass he still held, despite it being empty. "The only way to figure out the truth is a massive data crawl - go back to the earliest scientists recruited, then their friends, people they recommended to the organization, and do a counter-intelligence investigation like nothing ever seen before."

"That sounds - difficult," Steve said, picturing the manpower it would take to go through seventy years of records for that kind of analysis. "If not impossible."

"JARVIS could do it," Tony said at the same time Diana said, "I know someone who can do it."

"Who do you know?" Tony demanded. "Are they any good?"

Diana smiled. "He may even be better than your JARVIS."

"Ooh - a challenge," Tony said. "Fine - put up or shut up, Ms. Prince."

"Give me a moment." Diana tapped something out of sight on her desk, and then she picked up a phone that looked more like what Steve remembered than any of the cellular phones he'd seen since he woke up.

"A landline?" Tony sounded stunned. "She's using a _landline_?"

Apparently, whatever Diana had done had muted the sound on her end, because even with his enhanced senses, Steve couldn't hear anything she said.

She spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line for just a minute, perhaps two, before hanging up and restoring the sound.

"He'll conference in," she said. "Steve - I have to warn you, his appearance is … unusual."

"Conference in?" Tony repeated, even as Steve wondered what _unusual_ meant in this instance. "Into a call JARVIS placed?"

"Sir," JARVIS said, "I am receiving a request to join your call."

"From who?" Tony snapped.

"Victor Stone, who says he is a friend of Ms. Prince."

Tony stared at Diana, who simply raised an eyebrow as if in challenge.

"Fine," Tony said. "Let him join."

The image on the screen before them split into two halves, Diana to the right, and to the left -

Steve's breath caught, and he tried not to stare at the black man on the screen. The entire upper left quadrant of his head was covered in metal, his left eye glowing a dull mechanical red. In the center of his forehead, a light or gem of some kind glowed an icy pale blue.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers," the man said. "Diana says you have a problem that I can help with?"

"Uh, yeah," Tony said, recovering more quickly than Steve had. "You want to fill him in, Capsicle?"

Steve summarized their discussion and the suspicion that Hydra had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. _ab initio_.

When he was finished, Victor Stone let out a low whistle. "There's a challenge - not just identifying any moles, but dealing with them effectively."

"Leave that to us," Steve said. "President Ellis wants to talk to me - something about a celebration that I'm back. I can talk to him about it then."

"You might ask him for a pardon while you're there," Tony said.

"A pardon? For what?"

"Hacking a more-classified-than-God intelligence organization. Because I don't think we can get a warrant for what we're about to do, and even if we could, it would tip off the bad guys."


	2. Chapter 2

Steve tuned out the rest of the discussion between Tony, JARVIS, and Victor Stone - not only was it more technical than he could yet follow, Diana had hung up as well, presumably for the same reason.

Which left him with nothing to do but cross to the window overlooking what he'd started thinking of as Tony's flight deck because it held the machinery that handled his Iron Man armor. He could, he supposed, pull his sketchbook from his duffel bag and draw…

Suiting action to thought, minutes later Steve was settled in a chair, pencil moving quickly, lightly, across the page.

To his surprise, though, it wasn't a landscape - cityscape, rather - that took shape on the page. Rather, it was a study of Peggy Carter from two angles. One was how he remembered her from Camp Lehigh and Europe during the war. The other was of her as he'd last seen her, in her bed in England, lines of care and age etched into her face.

There was a lesson, a moral, in those two images, but he wasn't certain he wanted to explore just what it might be.

"Stone and JARVIS have hacked S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mainframe and are starting the database search now." Tony's voice made Steve look up from his sketchpad to find Tony staring at the images he'd drawn.

Wordlessly, Steve handed the sketchpad to him, and Tony studied the images for a long time.

"She was like my aunt, you know?" Tony said. "Friends more with Dad than Mom, but she was always around. I should've been around more for her."

Steve floundered for something to say, finally settling on, "I don't believe you weren't around. But even if that's true, the Peggy I remember wouldn't hold it against you."

"I hold it against me," Tony snapped, unceremoniously dropping the sketchpad back into Steve's lap. "Even when I heard about her diagnosis, I didn't -" he blew out a breath. "I didn't even fund Alzheimer's research," he finished almost too quietly for Steve to hear.

"You still can."

Tony shrugged. "Even if I did, anything they find would be too late to help her."

"But not her children or grandchildren," Steve protested, with the barest regret that those children and grandchildren weren't his. He'd always wanted a family, but wishing for a family he'd been denied was both wasteful and greedy.

"It's not the same," Tony said weakly.

"It's better than nothing," Steve replied.

Tony nodded tightly before looking away. Steve adjusted his sketchbook and pencils to give Tony privacy while he recovered.

After a moment, Tony cleared his throat. "So - that data mining's going to take a while, and you need a place to stay. You can take one of the guest suites here."

"Thank you," Steve said. "Tell me how much the rent is, and I'll pay you back as soon as I -"

"Please, Rogers," Tony scoffed. "I don't care how much back pay they owe you, you couldn't afford the rent on this place long-term."

"Still, I want to pay you back."

"The money doesn't matter to me."

"It matters to me." Steve hadn't intended to use _that_ tone, but it drew Tony up short, and for a long moment, Howard's son regarded him with a frown. Steve tried to meet his gaze evenly.

"Okay," Tony said simply. "You can pay rent - family and friends discounted, but still rent."

Steve nodded, knowing better than to argue for full rent when he had no idea how much it might be, let alone how little his back pay would be. But it did remind him again that he'd need to find some kind of work to do, and sooner than later.

His phone rang, and he thought Tony was as relieved as he felt for the interruption. A glance at the screen told him Diana was calling.

"Excuse me," he said to Tony, and stepped out onto the flight deck, accepting the call as he went. "Diana? Is everything okay?"

"I thought to ask you that question," she replied, her tone full of concern as well as amusement. "It can't sit well with you that S.H.I.E.L.D. may be compromised."

"It doesn't," Steve admitted. "But there's not much I can do about it right now, except call the president and accept his invitation. And then wait."

Wait for the meeting with the president, wait for the results of the data search, wait for his life to resume…

"You can search for lawyers," Diana reminded him.

"That shouldn't take too long," Steve said, which meant it wouldn't fill his days, and there was little he hated more than long stretches of time with nothing to do.

"You need a purpose."

"Is it that obvious?" Steve asked, amused.

"Only to someone who spent many nights talking with you at campfires in the middle of Nazi-occupied territory."

Steve laughed at that. "Fair enough. We did share a lot, didn't we?"

"Probably more than either of us would be comfortable with in other circumstances," Diana agreed, then fell silent for a moment.

The silence should have been uncomfortable, Steve thought - two friends who'd barely reunited after a decades-long separation, who were on the verge of becoming more than friends, and who had thousands of miles between them at the moment. But it had always been easy to be with Diana, to sit and talk, or sit and be quiet, and this moment turned out to be no different.

"I have ideas, if you want to hear them."

Diana offered the words quietly, as though she were afraid of his reaction, and Steve could only be honest.

" _Please_ , for the love of all that's holy, _yes_ ," he said. "I can use all the ideas you have, because I'm fresh out."

Diana laughed aloud, and though Steve couldn't see her face, he suspected she was surprised she had.

"Very well," she said when she caught her breath. "Let me simply list them, please, and you can respond when I'm done."

"Okay."

"Whichever attorney you select could advance money against your recovery. You're an artist - you could have a show and sell some of your work. You could teach art. You could write a memoir and have it published - I'd bet there'd be a bidding war by the publishers, and if you don't feel comfortable writing it yourself, I know someone who can help. You could accept speaking fees to lecture anywhere in the world. You could hire yourself out as private security for executives or other wealthy clients."

She paused for breath and Steve could only say, "Wow."

"Too much?"

"A lot to think about," Steve amended. "But you've always given me a lot to think about."

"As long as I didn't overwhelm you."

"If I am overwhelmed, it's not your fault." He paused to let that truth just _be_ for a moment. Then, "Thank you, Diana. Most people in this time have been friendly, but it's good to have a friend."

And that was true, too - Steve knew it in his soul. Whether or not their friendship ever developed into something more, they were and would remain friends.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days later, Steve strode into a conference room on the 76th floor of Stark - no, Avengers - Tower. He'd given in to the inevitable and asked Pepper Potts to recommend someone to help him with the various issues Diana and her friend Wayne had identified.

Over his objection, Pepper had taken on the responsibility herself. "Please, Captain - you helped save New York. It's the least I can do. Besides, it isn't really that much."

It was a lot to him, but if Steve had learned anything from Peggy Carter, it was when to give in gracefully. So today he had an appointment on his calendar - in his phone, and it was still a source of wonder that one small device could do so much - and could only wonder what Pepper had done.

Pepper was waiting for him in the conference room, along with a woman with dark hair cut short in a severe cut, and a somewhat rotund man with light brown hair hanging to his shoulders.

"Captain." Pepper rose to her feet, and her companions followed. "I'd like you to meet Jeryn Hogarth and Franklin Nelson from the law firm of Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz."

Steve offered his hand first to the woman. "Ms. Hogarth, a pleasure. Mr. Nelson."

"The pleasure's mine, Captain," the man - Nelson - replied.

"Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz is a full-service law firm," Pepper continued. "We've had a long relationship with them, for everything from patent work to the occasional paternity suit."

"And more pertinently," Jeryn Hogarth added, "we've recently assigned Mr. Nelson as our liaison and go-to person for any cases involving vigilantes."

Steve didn't bother to hide his frown. "I'm not a vigilante."

"Of course not," Nelson said. "But you wear a costume, and many people will make that association regardless of the facts. And your situations aren't _that_ dissimilar - unless you're reactivating your Army commission?"

"I - haven't decided that yet," Steve admitted.

"If you do, we'll gladly recommend a JAG attorney for you," Hogarth said. "But in the meantime, Mr. Nelson is probably the best choice for your liaison."

"What does that mean, exactly - liaison?" Steve asked. "I understood I need an attorney for intellectual property issues and one for any back pay and benefits owed to me."

"We have an IP attorney on staff," Nelson said. "And we have excellent working relationships with JAG lawyers from the Army and the Navy. It'll be my job to coordinate their work and report to you on the progress of various issues."

"Think of Mr. Nelson as a central point for information," Hogarth added. "It will easier for you to contact him than to deal with several people."

"That makes sense," Steve said slowly, considering. That Pepper Potts - and by extension, Tony Stark - recommended them meant a lot in terms of their competence. But it also meant they'd probably cost a lot…

"I don't have money right now," Steve said - just a statement of fact.

Hogarth sat back in her chair. "Mr. Stark has instructed us to charge expenses against our Stark Industries retainer," she said. "As to the rest - we'll take a percentage of whatever we recover on your behalf."

"How large a percentage?" Steve asked.

"Typically, thirty-three percent," Hogarth responded, and Steve wasn't certain he hid his reaction to such a large percentage. "However, in light of our ongoing relationship with Stark Industries, and in exchange for an exclusive representation agreement with you, twenty-five percent."

It was a significant reduction, but it still felt like robbery. Steve blew out a breath, reminding himself that he'd had no real understanding of how the legal system worked back in the 1940s, let alone today. It was probably worth twenty-five percent just so he didn't have to learn all of how the system worked in a crash course.

Which didn't mean he wouldn't learn it, eventually.

"All right," he said. "What do I need to do?"

Hogarth rose from her chair, and Steve stood with her. "I'll leave you in Mr. Nelson's capable hands. Ms. Potts, if you have time, I'll be happy to give you an update."

"Of course," Pepper agreed. She turned to Steve and added, "If you need anything, just ask JARVIS."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve replied, the formality automatic in this setting. He shook Jeryn Hogarth's hand again, and then the women were gone.

He resumed his seat. "So, Mr. Nelson, where do we begin?"

"We begin by you calling me Foggy," Nelson said.

"Foggy?"

"Old nickname, but I'm comfortable with it."

"If you'll call me Steve," Steve replied, smiling at Nelson's nickname. It reminded him oddly of Dum-Dum Dugan and, by extension, the rest of the Howling Commandos. The memory was still tinged with grief, but not as much as he might have expected.

Nelson looked somewhat uncertain, though he shook the expression off quickly. "Yeah, that's gonna be weird. I'll get used to it, though. Steve."

"Foggy."

Nelson grinned. "Let's get to work."

Two hours later, Steve might not know the details of what the lawyers would be doing for him, but he at least understood the broad outlines. In addition to the back pay and intellectual property rights that Bruce Wayne had already mentioned, Foggy and his team would be pursuing lawsuits for libel against publishers of books suggesting Steve Rogers had sold out to the Nazis or other things that had horrified Steve just to hear about.

He'd objected, at first. "Isn't that what the First Amendment's all about?"

Foggy shook his head. "This isn't the government making a law preventing speech. It's actual speech that insults you and your legacy. There's a difference."

"Even if we sue and win, we won't change some people's minds."

"They can think whatever they want. They just can't publish insulting things without consequences."

The man hadn't meant anything beyond the obvious with his words, but still they made Steve pause as he remembered the dossiers S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him on two of his fellow Avengers - Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.

Neither of the files had been particularly complimentary - and neither of them had matched the men Steve had fought beside. The dichotomy brought home just how dangerous biased or inaccurate information could be, and he'd nodded.

"Go ahead. Get as much as you can."

His about-face had surprised Foggy, but the man recovered quickly and moved on to their next topic.

Now, after Foggy had left to return to his office and get started on Steve's case - cases, technically - Steve found himself uncomfortably remembering what those dossiers had said and how he'd reacted.

He'd reacted exactly how whoever prepared those dossiers had wanted him to react, that much was clear. Why they'd wanted him to react that way was another question, and one he might never find the answer to, no matter how much he searched.

Steve might not be able to do anything about the dossiers themselves, but he could attempt to make amends for how he'd reacted.

"JARVIS, is Mr. Stark available?"

"Sir is in his lab, and says you are welcome to join him there."

"Thanks." Steve crossed to the elevator and let JARVIS take him to Tony's lab.

The music was already at a bearable level when the elevator doors opened, and Tony himself was straightening from a small refrigerator.

"Beer?" he asked.

It was barely midafternoon, but Steve could only accept the offering. "Thanks."

He caught the bottle Tony tossed to him and wrenched the cap off. The liquid was pungent on his tongue, with an oddly familiar taste he struggled to identify.

"Peanuts?" he asked finally.

"Peanut butter stout," Tony said. "Odd, but good."

"Very." Steve took another swallow just to punctuate the comment. Then he set the bottle aside. "I'm sorry."

Tony blinked, and again, and Steve thought he should remember seeing Tony Stark speechless because it probably didn't happen often.

"For what?" Tony asked finally, his tone cautious.

"For letting the dossiers S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me affect my judgment. I should've formed my own opinion, rather than looking for how theirs was correct."

"Huh." Tony took a long swallow of his beer.

"What?"

"That's not what I expected you to say. Not that I have any idea what I _did_ expect you to say, but it wasn't that."

"I can admit when I'm wrong."

"Apology accepted."

"Thanks," Steve said, then considered whether to say what else was on his mind or not. Finally, he decided to go for it. "But the Tower is ugly."


	4. Chapter 4

_Two months later_

In some ways, it wasn't the technological changes since the 1940s that bothered Steve the most - although he sometimes wondered if he'd ever get used to carrying a phone around with him everywhere, the better to be available whenever someone else wanted him regardless of his own preferences.

No, it was the _attitudinal_ changes that surprised him the most. The ideals he'd grown up with remained the same, it seemed, but the practice of them in daily life was nothing like what he remembered.

Accepting obvious security everywhere - from anti-theft scanners in every store to private security guards, not to mention metal detectors and bag searches, at concerts - was just the most glaring and unnerving of modern attitudes Steve confronted every day.

That he hadn't been allowed to meet Diana's flight at the gate both saddened and enraged him. Oh, he'd seen the news footage of the events of September 11, 2001, and he supposed he understood the urge to be safe, but he wasn't certain how forbidding non-passengers from the gates was supposed to accomplish that, and in all his reading on the topic, he hadn't found a good explanation.

So today he stood at the baggage claim station for arriving Finnair flights because an arriving domestic passenger couldn't get past security at the international terminal of Reagan National Airport. His own flight from New York had landed an hour ago - he'd wanted to share that flight with her, but her flight was sold out when he booked his.

He'd used the time since he'd arrived to confirm the limousine he'd reserved for the trip to their shared hotel. It was an indulgence, but he had to admit that he liked the thought of picking a beautiful woman up at the airport in a limousine.

Sure, for Tony Stark or Bruce Wayne, it would be a commonplace thing to do, but for a boy who grew up poor in Brooklyn during the Great Depression, it felt like the height of luxury.

Caught up in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice Diana striding toward him, smiling widely.

"Steve."

"Diana." He'd probably never be fully comfortable with the level and amount of public displays of affection that appeared to be common in this time, but still he opened his arms and pulled her in for a hug. "Good flight?"

"Any landing you can walk away from," she said lightly into his chest. "We had stormy weather and a bumpy flight over the eastern Atlantic, but otherwise it was good."

Steve stepped back. "Good. How many bags do you have?"

"Just one." Diana smiled again. "I travel light."

"Even for job interviews and a formal dinner with the president?" Steve couldn't help being impressed. "I think that might be your real superpower."

She winked at him. "Who says I have just one?"

"So," Diana said later over room service meals in the sitting area of their hotel suite, "tell me about the dinner with the president."

"It's - staging," Steve admitted, then took a bite of his too-expensive burger before continuing. "I met with him in private yesterday and we discussed S.H.I.E.L.D. and its problems."

"Hydra's infiltration is confirmed, then?" Diana took a bite of her lamb chop.

"Officially, JARVIS and Mr. Stone are still sifting through the data. Unofficially, it's confirmed and we're only waiting for the final details of members and projects Hydra has instigated at S.H.I.E.L.D."

One of those projects, codenamed Project Insight, was the absolute worst of the attitudinal changes he was seeing in the twenty-first century. Even allowing for the most benign interpretation possible, the weapon-laden helicarriers that formed the core of Project Insight were little better than a gun pointed at the head of every citizen - not just of the United States, but of the world.

Steve hadn't fought and (believed he'd) died for a country that would launch something so draconian.

"I'm sorry," Diana murmured. "I can't imagine how difficult it is for you, and in how many ways, but I am sorry that you're hurting."

"I'm kind of getting used to it," Steve said. "What I'm not getting used to is not knowing what to do about it, if there's even anything I _can_ do." But that was too dark a topic of conversation for now. He changed the subject. "But the president wants to host a dinner to officially welcome me back to the world."

Diana quirked an eyebrow at him. "You mean he wants to show you off and bask in reflected glory."

Steve chuckled. "I wouldn't have put it quite so bluntly, but yes. And I'll let him - it gives me a reason to be seen with him and to keep in touch that won't raise suspicions where we don't want them."

"Hydra."

"Exactly. We'll keep it all friendly and light-hearted in public, but in private we can discuss the real issues and make plans."

"I won't ask what those plans are," Diana said. "Just know that if I can help at all, I will."

"Thank you." The words seemed so inadequate, but they were the only ones he had. Steve finished the last of his burger and sat back in his chair to pick at the French fries remaining on his plate. "I haven't asked why you're looking for a job here in the States. I thought you liked your work at the Louvre."

"I do." Diana took a sip of wine. "But - circumstances mean that it's time for a change."

Steve frowned. "I don't know how to say this, but I hope that I, that _us_ , or what we might be together, didn't pressure you into this. I'd never want you to give up work you love for me."

"You didn't and I wouldn't," Diana assured him. She looked thoughtful for a moment before she spoke again. "The Avengers are not the only people dedicated to protecting Earth. Most of the ones I associate with are based here in the States. It makes sense for me to be closer to them."

Steve nodded an acknowledgment, then chuckled ruefully. "I don't know whether to be glad I'm not the reason you're moving here or ashamed that I assumed I might be."

"I don't think you need to be ashamed," Diana said. "I think it's beautiful."

Steve felt his eyebrows flying up. "Beautiful?"

"That you respect me enough not to want to pressure me? Of course." Her smile was a gift, and for a long moment, he simply returned it, the two of them staring at each other and grinning like idiots.

Diana sobered first, though her eyes still flashed with amusement when she said, "I am impressed, though, that you chose a two-bedroom suite at the Mandarin Oriental. Quite a splurge for a boy from Brooklyn."

Steve felt his cheeks heating and took a sip of his own wine to try to cover the reaction - even though she was as observant as he was.

When he'd recovered enough to meet her gaze, he said, "You aren't here for long, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can. When I started searching for hotel rooms, a suite wasn't that much more expensive, so I got it. I'm still not pressuring you," he added with what he hoped was a teasing grin.

"You wouldn't," she said seriously. "And even if you tried - well. I'm at least as strong as you are, and a better-trained fighter."

That startled a laugh out of Steve, even as he acknowledged the truth of what she'd said.

"But I have to wonder - and forgive me for asking, if it makes you uncomfortable - does that mean you're ready?"

He didn't have to ask, _Ready for what?_ The last time he'd seen her in person, they'd affirmed the attraction for each other that hadn't faded since the Second World War, but agreed that he wasn't ready to act on it.

He'd had too much to adapt to, too much to grieve, to be ready for a girlfriend. Now, almost three months later, Steve met her gaze once more.

"I'm ready." Or at least as ready as he'd ever be, and he'd never been one to shy away from something just because he was nervous, even afraid, of doing it.

There was something different about Diana's smile, and it took Steve a moment to figure out what. When he did, embarrassed shame flushed through him. He'd seen her grin at a foe who might actually challenge her. He'd seen her smile in triumph when she bested that foe. He'd seen her smile at someone's joke, and he'd seen her smile in sad acknowledgment of truths she didn't like.

But he'd never before seen her smile when she was happy.

"Good," she said, breaking him free of his memories. "Then tomorrow morning, I will speak with the board at the Sackler Gallery. Tomorrow evening, we have dinner with your president. The day after, you'll take me on a date."

Steve blinked. "I will? I mean, of course I will. What did you have in mind?"

"A date you would have taken me on after the war," she said. "A date that is _you_."

Steve willed his expression to remain neutral. She didn't know - _couldn't_ know - about the date he'd been arranging with Peggy Carter when the _Valkyrie_ crashed. She didn't intend to hurt him, but still her words brought back memories and feelings he thought he'd passed.

 _But maybe you never really get past things. Maybe you just move on anyway._

He could only hope his smile was half as happy as hers when he said, "I can do that."

Here ends the second part of Steve and Diana's story. The third part is in progress, and I will add a chapter to this story when I start posting it next week. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The next work in this series, Returning, is now up. I hope you enjoy it!


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